July 29, 2005

I used to believe in Santa Claus. I know it sounds a bit unusual to think of a young Jewish lass on Long Island pining away for ol' Kris Kringle, but it's true. My parents had always led me and my brother to believe that it was Santa who provided our Hanukkah gifts.

We bought it hook, line and sinker. No questions about why Santa always left the gifts in my parent's closet each of the eight nights. No concerns about the jolly fellow's other decidedly non-Jewish monikers - Father Christmas and St. Nick. Heck, I even went as far as to believe that Santa Claus was simply being generous in signing gift cards from my assorted relatives. Please! He couldn't fool me with that lousy signature from "Grandpa Fred and Grandma Carole." It was really Santa Claus behind those new, nifty Colorforms and Shrinky Dink sets.

It took me a while to accept that Santa didn't exist. And, now, according to the BBC, it looks like I'm going to have to deal with another difficult blow:

An apple tree which baffled its 94-year-old owner by apparently producing three different kinds of fruit has been revealed as a hoax.
The tree at Harry Tomlinson's garden in north Wales seemed to be growing plums and blackberries as well as apples.

The 'fruit salad' tree was reported in newspapers and on TV news bulletins.

But close inspection revealed that the plums and blackberries had simply been stuck on. The identity of the Abergele practical joker remains a mystery.

Mr Tomlinson's apple tree had grown in his garden for 30 years before it appeared to start to bear plums and blackberries.

Horticulturalists remained sceptical about the apparent discovery before experts confirmed on Wednesday that two of the fruits had been attached.

Apples, blackberries and plums appeared to grow on the tree

Dr Colin Norton, of the Welsh College of Horticulture, said: "We're always interested in new plants but this one, from 10 yards away, you can see it's a hoax.

"It was quite evident that the leaves on the tree were the same throughout.

"The second indicator was that the fruits just didn't go with the particular leaves they were alongside."

Mr Tomlinson, who has three grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, admitted he had been tricked but remained mystified over who had stuck the fruit to the tree.

He added: "I've found that it isn't true and that somebody has made a joke.

"They've brought some plums from somewhere else and fixed them on.

"I think it's a rotten trick."

I'm convinced that it's either the Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy behind this produce prank.

July 26, 2005

If the New York Daily News is correct, today's urban male apparently isn't just looking for smart, sexy and a sense of humor - but he's also seeking a woman with a great lasagna recipe:

Lasagna...brought luck for Diane DiMeo, a fact that still surprises her husband. "I thought, 'What does a Korean-Iranian girl know about cooking Italian?'" says Joe DiMeo, a Brooklyn native who grew up on his Neapolitan grandmother's classic food. Diane's vegetarian lasagna - with roasted tomatoes, spinach, pine nuts and raisins - was not like Nonna's.

"I loved the quirkiness of it," says Joe. "She showed me that there was something else out there. She got me through my stomach." He'd known her for only a week. Two weeks after that, he gave her the key to his apartment. And three weeks later, they wed. Now they now run the restaurant Soju in Brooklyn Heights. "In the past three years I've eaten like a king," says Joe, who reports that Diane makes her lasagna once a month.

Other examples of culinary rapture leading to wedlock, include a Manhattan exercise physiologist's fowl play and a beauty magazine editor's tartish behavior.

July 25, 2005

The Union Square Greenmarket was beginning to shut down when I spotted it - tender bundles of fragrant, fresh Lemon Verbena (pictured above.) Their citrusy scent was intoxicating. I had to have some.

The produce stand's patriarch spotted me smiling ear to ear breathing in the heady aroma. Was he a kindred spirit? It was a dollar a bunch, but he let me plunk down 2 smackaroos for the whole lot - about 7 precious bundles. A bargain. Who was I to say "no?"

I offered up one bundle to my Greenmarket compadre Jenn, as an herbal compliment to the striped bass she was preparing later that night, and began to mull over my own verbena options...Hmm...Lemon Verbena Sorbet? Lemon Verbena Custard? Lemon Verbena Infusion?

So many options. So little Lemon Verbena.

Headed home with recipes racing through my head and decided to put off deciding until Sunday. I had plans to hook up at Floyd NY with my pal Henry and a few of his friends. Placing the Lemon Verbena aside for more social pastures, I spritzed a little Lemon Sugar perfume behind my ears and ran out the door when...

KERPLUNK!!!

I'd fallen. And I couldn't get up.

My ankle throbbed. I knew I was on the bottom of my stoop, but I couldn't lift my head. I was inexplicably dizzy. Through the haze I realized that someone was kneeling beside me - gently rubbing my ankle - and a voice from another direction was asking if I was okay. I couldn't answer. A wave of nausea swept over me. Someone muttered something in Spanish. I attempted to mutter that I was alright, but at that point I was shaking a bit and sweating. I wasn't alright. But, some sort of guardian angel was still rubbing my ankle, attempting to soothe my pain.

A few seconds later, I regained my senses and realized that a whole family had stopped to assist me after my fall. It ended up that my guardian angel was actually an Hispanic Grandma - and professional Reiki Healer, who was plying her craft on my foot. Her daughter translated for me, explaining that my ankle was not broken, just sprained and that I would be okay.

I knew she was right - and thanked them all profusely as they headed off towards the Promenade. I was okay. In pain. But, ultimately okay.

Carousing wasn't in the cards anymore. I hobbled back upstairs to my apartment and was met with the potent scent of zesty lemon with just a hint of herbal notes - the Lemon Verbena.

Clearly, it was to be my companion for the evening after all. I settled on Lemon Verbena Ice Cream and Lemon Verbena Simple Syrup as the evening's projects - beyond icing my ankle and taking Ibuprofen. But, I think it was that elating aroma that truly helped the healing process begin - that and the wizardry of a kind family with enchanted Reiki powers.

July 21, 2005

Snicker if you must, but in truth, I did have a tasty organic Goat Cheese, Tomato, Scallion and Fresh Basil Omelet at Siggy's Good Food in Brooklyn Heights last weekend. Fairly hedonistic by healthy standards, I know. But, it was organic folks.

And, the atmosphere at Siggy's is most definitely crunchy, granola - complete with a Berkeley-worthy juice bar featuring wheatgrass and a plethora of produce. Also took a particular shine to the toy train criss-crossing in the front window, transporting a SpongeBob Squarepants cut-out with the tagline "Absorb Organic."

Who wouldn't want to take nutrition advice from a flamboyant cartoon sponge? In fact, I find SpongeBob a much more attractive spokesperson for healthy eating than the vegan I dated a few years back. (I knew it was over when he started launching into a diatribe over dinner about what brown rice could do for my colon, as opposed to white.)

July 19, 2005

According to today's New York Times, technology experts have finally found a way to banish one of life's most trying tasks:

Sticker-removal duty took Jean Lemeaux of Clarksville, Tex., half an hour one day last week.

"I was picking all the little stickers from the Piggly Wiggly off my plums and my avocado pears and my peaches," said Ms. Lemeaux, 76. "Then I had to make fruit salad out of the ones that got hurt when I took the stickers off, and then I had to wash the glue off the other ones before I put them in the fruit bowl."

"One time," she said, "I got up the next morning and looked in the mirror and there were two of them up in my hair."

You've got to be kidding me. And, this made the COVER of the New York Times. Not above the fold mind you, but still...

Apparently the solution to this horrific global crisis is none other than the age old artform of tattooing (adorned pear above):

A new technology being used by produce distributors employs lasers to tattoo fruits and vegetables with their names, identifying numbers, countries of origin and other information that helps speed distribution. The marks are burned onto the outer layer of the skin and are visible to discerning consumers and befuddled cashiers alike...

..."With the right scanning technology the produce could even be bar-coded with lots of information: where it comes from, who grew it, who picked it, even how many calories it has per serving," said Fred Durand III, president of Durand-Wayland. "You could have a green pepper that was completely covered with coding. Or you could sell advertising space."

Why don't those wacky technology wizards stop focusing on the glories of produce and concentrate on something equally useless in a non-food-related sector? - Like coming up with a Weeble that will finally fall down.

July 18, 2005

It was a day to stay inside with my air conditioning and a good book - or better, a good man. Well, I had my A/C full blast, but I'd just finished my latest book and a good man wasn't in sight. Looked like I'd be forced to venture outside. But, to where? It had to be somewhere befitting this sweat-fest of a summer's day.

As luck would have it, the folks at SummerStage had figured out the perfect game plan for this heatstroke weather - a full day of New Orleans bands.

Heck, if the outside was gonna feel like the Bayou in July, I might as well have some Big Easy benefits!

And so, I gathered myself up for the trip to Central Park and even convinced my pals Kurt and Sarah to come along, bringing a gaggle of sundry gal pals in tow. By the time I arrived (5 minutes into a smokin' set by Kermit Ruffins & The Barbecue Swingers), Kurt was in his element on a baby blue blanket, surrounded by a harem of hot babes, sipping a Stella Artois out of a plastic cup. Then I looked a bit closer...The boy was glowing...Scratch that, he was dripping with sweat...And so was I. So was EVERYBODY.

But everybody didn't have the good sense to be prepared. (I was a 4-H girl, after all.) I had snuck in a pitcher of Juniper Breezes, a cool, sophisticated cocktail, rife with gin and the vitamin C goodness of grapefruit juice. How did I get it past security? (Like I said, I was in 4-H. Whaddaya think they teach us? How to birth calves?)

Cups were quickly passed out and sipping commenced as we kicked back in the blistering heat and listened to the spirited, heart-thumping, toe-tapping, dancing-with-an-umbrella-in-the-air rhythms of trumpeter Ruffins and his glorious band. The libation was helping ease us into the mood of The Big Easy, but the sun was plain evil - in concert with the raging humidity, steaming us right up like a box of little White Castle burgers. (And, I'm not a White Castle fan.)

All too quickly the pitcher ran dry, with several blanket companions mourning the loss and asking for my refreshing recipe. Would we make it through the set now that we ran dry? Luckily, Kermit and his crew were winding down. The timing was on the mark, because we simply weren't gonna make it without another pitcher. Stella Artois was serviceable, but once you've partaken of the Juniper Breeze, it's hard to go back.

And, for those of you planning on hitting SummerStage on another scorcher of a day, here's my drink recipe. (Please note that the original was created by noted mixologist Julie Reiner of Flatiron Lounge, but I've simplified it a bit, for those of us who don't commonly keep Elderflower Syrup or Star Fruit in our refrigerators.):